Today I have been stuck on the "WHY ME" question. Then I think about how I still take responsibility for what happened to me, like I had full control over the situation. It feels like I am fighting a war inside my body. One part keeps saying you wanted it, and the other is screaming "why did this have to happen". It's like I don't believe myself, yet, I was there, and I know what happened to me. My mind flashes back to how gross and disgusting I felt in school the next day. All I wanted to do was take a bath. I sat in class and could still feel him touching me. I rubbed my skin as if I was rubbing him off.It is just crazy that I would have any doubt in my mind as to whether I should be mad at him. I should want to kill him, yet, I pity him. I just don't understand.
Your story is deeply affecting. I relate to a lot of it - the age range, the seduction and violation of trust from a trusted mentor (I, too, knew my molester years before he started having sex with me). I relate to the confusion, the hating it yet wanting it at the same time - then just the hating of myself that seemed to be the ultimate product of the two.
Have you seen the movie Slingblade? The dynamics between you and your mother's BF - and the role of protecting her - reminded me strongly of that movie.